Page 12 of The Gentleman’s Thief

The bed was a stoic king-size four-poster. I sat and tested the firmness of the mattress. I waited, expecting Sebastian to be along mere moments after me, but he did not arrive. I removed the small bottle of oil from my pocket and placed it on the nightstand. The electric chandelier blazed and I did not care for the buzzing sound, for it made me feel more anxious, so I turned the overhead chandelier off, and switched the bedside lamps on to give the room intimate lighting. I would not be sinning in the dark, not this time!

The bedroom was a lavishly attired, and well-appointed. I strode to the mantle, took a taper from the box atop it, and lit the gas fire to take the chill from the room. Then I moved to the window and looked out onto the eventide street. I saw that the frigid winter air and the pollution had mingled to form a low hanging gloomy fug, making the city treacherous. Crossing the road on a night like this was near suicide, especially with the new-fangled motor vehicles that some of the aristocracy was becoming partial to! The risk of getting run down was growing exponentially, whether by a horse-drawn omnibus, a carriage, or a motor vehicle. Street lamps lining The Mall appeared haloed, and the figures going about their evening business—ghosts passing in the night. I shivered. The gloomy vista reminded me of why I rarely ventured out into the godforsaken night. Who knew when a cutthroat or doxy was waiting to lure a man to his undoing? Luckily, I would not be venturing out into the city for my undoing, I would be undone in this warm bedroom, and for tonight at least, blessedly, I was not alone.

I pulled the navy drapes closed, loosened my collar, and undid the buttons on my dinner jacket and waistcoat. I needed to pull myself together. Where the devil is Sebastian? I thought fretfully. I hoped he was not taking the opportunity to familiarize himself with the layout of the clubhouse in preparation for some future criminal activity. This would not gain him the trust he so dearly wanted from me. I scolded myself. I truly did not want to think ill of him but knowing Sebastian’s low profession and that he was by nature, a sinner, I could not stop the preaching of my priest echoing in my ears, with talk of damnation for thieves, adulterers, and sodomites.

Just when my frayed nerves were about to get the better of me the bedroom door opened and I turned to see Sebastian entering holding a tray with a bottle of French Brandy and two glasses. Seeing his foxy smile seemed to lift me out the darkness. I grinned with relief and slumped into a hearthside chair.

“Oh, thank goodness. I thought you’d changed your mind. Lock the door will you, my boy!” I requested when he had put the tray down on the sideboard. I heard the key twist in the lock and looked up as Sebastian turned to me.

“Come, dear heart, I may be duplicitous in certain situations, but when I say I will meet and talk privately I mean it!” The fervent look in his eyes was predatory. He grinned at me in a way I recalled from that first time he took me to bed. Then he had trapped me against the bathroom door and, being completely aroused by his hand massaging my prick through my trousers, I submitted to my desires.

“What subject shall we discuss that we cannot speak of in public?” He challenged as he sauntered toward me undoing the buttons on his dinner jacket, cuffs, and then the turquoise waistcoat.

“Did you take the Tiger Head as well as the Staff?”

“Of course I did.” I was surprised that he admitted it so freely. “But you said it was counterfeit?”

“The gems are counterfeit, but the object itself means more to the ancestors than the price of the jewels. There is power in an object that is greater than the worth of the materials it is made with, don’t you think? The family was overjoyed at its return.”

Sebastian removed the garments and tossed them over a chair. He loosened the button and hooks at the waist of his trousers and pulled his white shirt free. He was not wearing a cotton vest beneath his shirt, and with the shirt undone and hanging lose I found a disheveled Sebastian Cavell a deeply arousing sight. Any reply my brain cared to conjure did not meet my mouth, as I hungrily admired his sculpted chest and the thatch of golden ginger hair on his pectorals. This was like no conversational meeting I had ever attended!

“Brandy?” Sebastian suggested. I gave a polite neutral nod as words would still not form in my mouth, but as he made to pass by my chair I stood and with surprising confidence and the rush of desire in my blood; I stepped to block Sebastian’s passage. Our gazes locked and seeing the lust reflected in the burning embers of his eyes pushed me over the cliff. I reached out, cupped the back of his head, and pulled Sebastian to crush his lips against my mouth. He let out a groan of submission and then his hands tangled in my inky black curls and he gripped me roughly, painfully, as if he feared I would escape his clutches. I did not want to escape. I burned with sensation from head to toe. Sebastian moaned as my tongue teased his lips open and I pushed inside. I was ravenous for him. I adored the smoke, the liquor, and Sebastian's singular taste all mingled on my tongue like God's alchemy. Sebastian moved his hands to roughly clench at my buttocks, pulling me against the growing solid rod of his cockstand. His forceful grip made my skin resonate like a tuning fork, which in-turn gave me an insistent erection.

I had stepped over the cliff and I’d be damned anyway, so I vowed that this time I would not be the submissive in our tryst. I’d made my confession this very morn, and even as I’d prayed to God for forgiveness and took my penance, I knew I was a sodomite, I was weak for this man and given the chance I would sin again.

Our mouths still pressed together, I unhanded Sebastian, reached for my shirt, and groped for the buttons while backing Sebastian toward the bed. There was no time to waste. I wanted us to be out of our clothing as quickly as possible.

Sebastian ended the kiss and laughed in surprise as the backs of his legs hit the bed and he lost his balance. He stumbled backward and landed with his limbs splayed attractively across the navy damask coverlet. He was pink-cheeked and if truth be told, appeared a little shocked by the potency of my ardor.

“Goodness, dear heart. I thought we were here to talk, but I’d wager you plan to break me this night.” He laughed.

“I do!” I grinned. “I’ve even brought some oil to ensure your engine is well-lubricated!” I admitted gesturing to the tiny green bottle I had placed on the nightstand.

Sebastian grinned and rubbed his fingers across kiss swollen lips. “I also thought of that!” He fished into his trouser pocket and retrieved a small brown vial. “Clove oil… have you ever used it?”

I looked at him curiously. The only uses I knew for Clove oil were in dentistry and Mrs. Twigg’s baking!

“It numbs the skin you see, encouraging… painless penetration.” Our eyes met and Sebastian’s pupil’s flared with excitement. We lingered unblinkingly and it was clear that we were both on the same page.

“Is that right?”

I stood imposingly in front of Sebastian,

“Well, it appears we need an experiment to see which oil suffices for our requirements.” Sebastian let out a hearty laugh, eased himself up onto his elbows, and watched me as I began to undress. I removed my shirt and then my trousers and stood in my undergarments. My body was not that of a young man and I felt a little self-conscious. Although I was slender and still retained my dark curls, I was a man of fifty, and the lean musculature I’d honed as a youth was sagging somewhat. I exercised regularly because health and vitality are important to help keep me away from temptation. And so, I did not have the bloated belly most men my age sported through over-indulgence and pleasure-seeking. While self-deprecating thoughts about my physique rattled around my mind I comprehended the greedy way Sebastian watched me as I undressed. His glances did not reflect my self-contempt. His warm hazel eyes roamed over me as if I displayed the figure of a Greek sculpture. The desire in those looks made every hair stand on end and my bollocks twitch.

There was such magnetism between us. I needed to say something or we would be staring at one another all night. I coughed, “Come now, Cavell”. I was standing in a state of undress and vulnerability in front of my clothed lover.

“I cannot rightly bugger you if you keep your trousers on!” It sounded strange to hear my own gruff voice say such depraved words but with Sebastian gazing at me, it felt curiously easy.

“Oh, it’s like that is it? We had not even discussed who is buggering whom!” He shot back smartly.

“Forgive me. How very rude. I did not ask if that is your pleasure. If it is not we can… do something else.” I bumbled, remembering my manners.

“I find giving and receiving a good buggering to be deeply pleasurable,” Sebastian stated. Hearing him speak so plainly stirred the cauldron of lustful heat burning in my gut. “If you share my desires I would like us to take turns.” He added.

“I have not done this for… quite some years… but I do recall I enjoyed it immensely. I would like to give and receive.” My face burned with embarrassment for speaking of such things.

“Very well.” Sebastian chuckled, “If I am to be first I need to take care of my ablutions and then I need a good stiff… Brandy!”